In which I am visited by St. Patrick, the Mistress Witch of McClure, and Darius's Squadron of Benevolent Butterflies

As I stood in the check-out line with my mom and sister, I espied me an elderly woman with flaming red hair and dangle earrings shaped like foaming green beer mugs. She looked the perfect picture of an Irish Sidhe. I imagined her in a fairy rath, and the thought summoned a familiar ache in my heart-- the ache I always feel when I hear bagpipes.
We made eye contact, and I gave her a smile.
"I like your earrings," I said, "they're very festive."
Her eyes brightened as she patted her titian tresses and sighed,
"Thank you! You are the first to have noticed them today."
I kept my eyes on her the entire time-- determined that if she was a real leprechaun, this magnificent creature would have to share her gold with me.

Mirror, mirror...

We've all heard horror stories. Cornflakes stuck to the chin during sacrament talks, faces plastered with snot, and bleached eyebrows are just a few of many terrible instances. But I learned today that breaches of personal hygiene aren't truly influential until they happen to you personally.
When I arrived home from school today, I promptly headed upstairs to change my clothes before going to my violin lesson(yes, I did go). As I slipped a T-shirt over my head, I glanced at the mirror and noticed something peculiar glinting on my neck. May it be universally known that my room is very sunny at this time of day, and nothing reveals physical flaws like natural light. Thanks to this, upon closer inspection I discovered the shiny something to be a hair-- an unnaturally long and straight hair-- growing out of my neck. You can imagine my reaction. I made a beeline for my tweezers, and extracted the little bugger quickly. It was incredible, and probably should have been framed. The thing was so long it had more split ends than any hair growing out of my head. And then I saw it: another culprit, shorter than the first but much darker. I removed it as well, feeling rather unnerved and curious as to what could have spawned such a monster.
All I can say is this: either I have failed in the plucking industry or my hormones are severely screwed up.
The mirror tells no lies.